


What I Did In My Midlife Crisis by Sally Sparrow

by TerryBalls



Series: What I Did In My Midlife Crisis by Sally Sparrow [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Doctor (Doctor Who), Kerblam!, Non-Binary Doctor (Doctor Who), Passing reference to non-specific sexual assault, The Doctor disapproves of companion's partner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerryBalls/pseuds/TerryBalls
Summary: Even after fourteen years, Sally Sparrow hasn't forgotten about the Weeping Angels. Now, as her life falls apart, a broken version of the Doctor shows up and helps her put it back together again.
Relationships: Larry Nightingale/Sally Sparrow
Series: What I Did In My Midlife Crisis by Sally Sparrow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138214
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Sally Sparrow, owner and sole proprietor of _Sparrow & Nightingale: Antiquarian Books and Rare DVDs_, handed a box with the last of her stock over to Mr Thomas, the elderly owner of a slightly larger antiquarian bookshop opposite the train station.

“I’m very sorry you’re closing, Sally,” said Mr Thomas. “This town will miss your shop.”

“Thank you,” said Sally. She knew his condolences were genuine: Mr Thomas would often call in on his days off to buy a couple of books, and there was a mutualistic relationship between the two shops. “I’m going to miss it too.”

“I know how difficult it is these days with rent and staffing and _the competition_ ,” said Mr Thomas. He’d always refused to say the name of the beast out loud, a habit which Sally had found eccentric until she realised she’d picked it up.

“Yes,” said Sally. “I think we’d have been fine, but the DVD side just hasn’t been bringing in the money it used to, and I’m so overworked.”

“Well, please don’t be a stranger. You’re always welcome in my shop. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help out.”

“You’re so kind,” said Sally. “But honestly, I think I need something completely different. I might go travelling.”

“Good on you,” said Mr Thomas. “Do it while you’re still young and free.”

Sally grabbed the door for Mr Thomas and watched him walk out into the January dusk. She didn’t feel particularly young any more. She was going to be thirty-six later that year. Yes, she still had a few years on Mr Thomas, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d spent her entire youth scraping a living from selling old books. She had no savings and plenty of debts. Travelling was a story to get people off her back, but it wasn’t a serious option.

Suddenly there was a huge gust of wind. The receipts and bills and letters from the police scattered all over the empty shop were whipped up into the air, sticking to the walls. Sally thought it was a draft from an open window until she heard the noise.

Larry used to sit bolt upright at night, sweat sticking to his face. He had nightmares regularly now. They nearly always ended with that noise, the noise that had left Sally and Larry stranded at the mercy of the Weeping Angels. They’d been perfectly safe, but there had been a period where they’d both been left gripped by abject terror as the police box faded away around them.

Now the blue box was materialising in her shop. Seeing it appear was the opposite of a nightmare.

The wind died down, the noise stopped, and the box properly solidified. Sally realised she’d been holding her breath. She exhaled, the door opened, and a man stepped out.

“Hello,” he said. “Have you seen anybody who might need some help?”

This man was clearly not the Doctor. Sure, the Doctor was a time traveller, so he could plausibly have aged thirty years while she’d only aged fourteen, but his entire face didn’t match up. He also spoke in a Glaswegian burr rather than the Doctor’s estuary twang.

“Hi. Are you one of the Doctor’s friends?” Sally asked.

“No, very much not so,” said the man. “In fact, right now there are few people in this universe I like less than the Doctor.”

“So you stole his ship?"

“Again, no, sorry, I don’t know how you know the Doctor – bit of a complex life – but you clearly don’t know him very well.”

“Well, we only actually met for about a minute but we had a long conversation via DVD Easter Egg.”

“Sally Sparrow!” the man spluttered.

“Yeah, that’s me,” said Sally uneasily. “And you would be…?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said, with a glimmer in his eye. He threw back the corner of his suit jacket and seemed to stand a foot taller. “I’m the Doctor.”

“But…”

“I know what you’re thinking, the Doctor is not nearly this handsome. Well Sally, lesson one… OK, lesson… seven, of the Doctor – if ever I need to cheat death, I can change my face. And I've had to change my face a few times since we met. Personally I think this one is my best yet.”

Sally didn’t really understand, but that seemed to go with the territory when the Doctor was around. If this man was an imposter, why would he know her name?

“Nice to see you again, Doctor. Would you like a cup of tea?”


	2. Chapter 2

“So as I was saying…”

“Finish the tea.”

“It’s nice tea, but…”

“Doctor, drinking this cup of tea is absolutely essential to solving our problems. We can talk when you’re done.”

“Why don’t I just…”

“Doctor.”

The Doctor downed his tea in one go, glugging it down his throat as if he was a waste pipe.

“That rather goes against…”

“I’ve had your tea. Caffeine at this time will keep me up all night. Now, what can I do for you? Any unresolved problems? Aliens invading the neighbourhood? Mad scientists creating monsters? Can’t find the car keys?”

“My main problem right now,” said Sally, “is the strange man in my home who doesn’t even recognise me.”

The Doctor was quiet for a moment. “Having a bit of memory trouble. When you get to two thousand, you lose a few things.”

“But you remembered me when I mentioned the DVDs.”

“Oh, I’ll never forget the DVDs. That’s three incredibly boring weeks I’ll never get back. “Sally Sparrow, beware the Vashta Nerada!” over and over again.”

“The Weeping Angels.”

“Hmm? Yes, that makes more sense. Although you _should_ beware the Vashta Nerada too. And you really don’t want to get on the wrong side of the Zarbii.” The Doctor looked away. “I just lost someone, Sally. She’s not just gone, she’s gone from my memory. It’s like I never knew her at all.”

“Oh… Doctor, that sounds awful.”

“Yes, it is,” he agreed, very sombrely. “I just want to… you can imagine. But I can’t. There is so much I can do, and I want to do it, and if I stop doing it then I worry I’ll never start again. So if you want me to get out of your kitchen… sorry, that sounds too threatening. If you want to _help me_ get out of your kitchen, then please find me something to do.”

Sally paused for a second. “Larry.”

“You’ll need to be more specific.”

“My boyfriend, Larry. Two months ago he vanished. No note, no messages, no CCTV, he left his phone and his wallet. The police can’t find a trace of him. Missing. They think he’s dead, but it takes seven years for that to be official – we did it for Kathy. I have to run the shop on my own, even though I know nothing about DVDs, and I’ve just been so worried…” Sally pushed her hair back. “Is that too domestic for you? I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said the Doctor. “So the first time we met, you had been attacked by the Weeping Angels?”

“I thought about that. We thought about it a lot. Said if either of us ever got caught, we’d send word. Like Kathy did. Send a message forward in time to say not to worry.”

“And the message never came,” said the Doctor, almost to himself. “Sally, I am very good at finding missing things. You might not like what we find, but we can try. What do you say?”

“Sorry, we?”

“Well, I could do it without you, but frankly I don’t know the difference between your Harry and any other bloke, so it will be easier with your help.”

“Larry.”

“Sorry?”

“His name is Larry. Short for Lawrence. Not Harry.”

“Are you sure? Harry is a much better name.”

Sally sighed. “OK, I’ll come with you. Where should we start?”

That was how Sally got her second invitation to the TARDIS. She remembered it bronze and metallic with lots of lights and open space. Now, it was darker, velvety, and lined with bookshelves and blackboards and surely teeming with nooks and crannies.

“This place has changed,” said Sally.

“Let me guess – you don’t like it?”

“No, I…”

“Sorry, private joke. Anyway, fortunately this desktop has very easily accessible telepathic circuits.” The Doctor flicked a switch on one of the console panels, and it rolled up like a blind, revealing what looked like several rows of corrugated Styrofoam.

“This should be painless, but it is not entirely without risk. Engaging with a telepathic circuit is about as dangerous as using a staircase. There is a remote but non-zero chance that the process will change parts of your mind in a non-trivial fashion.”

“My great uncle fell down the stairs and died,” said Sally.

“And you still use staircases all the time, hands in the circuit.”

The circuits were slightly wetter than Sally was expecting, and certainly wetter than she would ever want a circuit to be.

“Sally, I need you to focus. Think about… DVD man.”

“Larry,” said Sally, trying not to roll her eyes. And as she said that, the centre of the TARDIS console started to rise and fall. The familiar sound filled her ears, not as loud inside as out. Sally had a sudden onset of severe vertigo, but kept her balance. A jolt ran through the TARDIS and she instinctively clenched the telepathic circuits. She could feel rapid pulses shooting in all directions through the circuits. She also found them unsettlingly rubbery. Before she’d thought about how rubber could ever be unsettling, the TARDIS stopped.

“Right, come on!” said the Doctor, as he bounded up the stairs to the TARDIS door, completely carefree. “Gary Flamingo awaits!”

They emerged into blinding morning light and sweltering summer heat. Sally took off her coat and threw it back inside the TARDIS. They were in a car park, next to some sort of warehouse.

The Doctor licked his finger and it up to the air. “2043. April. Monday. Nine thirty… seven, in the morning. Leyton Orient are top of the league.”

“That can’t be right…” said Sally, as she gazed into the distance.

“You’d be surprised how well they do under Ademola Lookman’s management…”

“No, I mean, how is Larry in the future?”

The Doctor paused for a second. “The telepathic circuits should have kept your personal subjective timeline in line with Larry’s. If the TARDIS brought you to the future, it’s because Gary is in the future. Probably somewhere in that warehouse.”

There was a shout from the other direction. The Doctor and Sally turned. A security guard was running towards them. The Doctor reached inside his jacket and withdrew a wallet of blank paper as the guard reached them.

“How did you get in here?” asked the guard. He was a fit young man, wearing a photo ID which identified him as _C. Dompton_. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Steady on, Dompton,” said the Doctor, brandish the paper wallet. “I have business here.”

Dompton stared at the paper. He pulled a torch out of his pocket and shone a purple light upon the paper before handing it back to the Doctor. “Why are we having a surprise inspection today? Mr Blamley is already here.”

“The best time to have a surprise inspection is when it is least expected ,” said the Doctor.

Dompton walked them to the warehouse, past rows of courier trucks. “Well, as I’m sure you can imagine, everything is tip-top for the boss. You won’t find any faults.”

“And yet,” said the Doctor, “we were able to stroll into the perimeter without anyone noticing.”

The warehouse was like a beehive in a vending machine. The air was abuzz with drones, bringing packages of all shapes and sizes down to the conveyor belts. At the end of the conveyor, another robot loaded them into waiting lorries. Dompton lead them under rows and rows of raised conveyor belts until they reached a concrete wall with three doors in it.

“Where shall we start, then?” asked Dompton. “Laboratory? Recreation room? Toilet?”

“You only have one toilet?” said Sally.

“Oh, it’s large enough for everybody. More space efficient than lots of small ones. Mr Blamley’s idea, that.”

“I’m glad you mentioned Mr Blamley, Dompton,” said the Doctor. “It just so happens that we’re here for…” the Doctor leaned towards Dompton and whispered something in his ear that Sally couldn’t make out. He stood back upright. “Please take us to him.”

Dompton blanched. “I… I don’t have authorisation to go down there, sir. I will need to radio my supervisor.” He turned away and spoke into his watch. “Ma’am? Couple of people from Mr Blamley’s office here to see the prisoners. I know, ma’am, but they’ve got the paperwork. OK, thanks ma’am, I’ll have them wait.”

Unfortunately, the Doctor had clearly tired of waiting, and was helping himself to chocolate digestives kept in a glass tin. Sally smiled at Dompton. “Sorry, he needs to keep his blood sugar up.”

“Oh, those are diabetic biscuits, you shouldn’t eat too many of them,” said Dompton.

“Don’t worry, I have three livers,” said the Doctor, flatly. Sally stared at him in disbelief, and he grinned belatedly. “Only kidding, I have exactly the same number and type of organs as any human my age.”

“Yes sir,” said Dompton.

“It’s not sir, Dompton,” said the Doctor.

“Sorry, mix,” said Dompton.

“No need for formalities, thanks, just call me the Doctor.”

A woman in her fifties opened one of the three doors. She was wearing a white coat and spectacles and had her hair up in a tight bun. “These are the visitors, Dompton?”

The Doctor handed over his paper wallet again. “The Doctor and Sally Sparrow, surprise inspectors.”

The woman didn’t bother looking at the wallet. “I am Lisa Oakwood, Business Manager to Mr Blamley. I am his eyes and ears, and I’ve never heard of either of you.”

“That’s part of the surprise!”

“Regardless, if it was my decision I would be sending you away and calling the police. As it is, however, Mr Blamley would rather like to speak to you.”

“Lead the way,” said the Doctor. Lisa led the Doctor and Sally through the door and down a set of steps that reminded Sally of the entrance to a wine cellar. The ground floor was all metal and concrete, but this stairwell was lined with wood. Sally could still smell the varnish. A memory of another cellar flashed through her mind, but she squashed it down. A white-haired man in a business suit stood at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on his walking stick. He was stood in front of a door which was much newer than its surroundings, thick titanium and locked with a retina scanner.

“Mixter Doctor. Ms Sparrow. I am awfully pleased to be making your acquaintance,” he said in an upper class accent. _Nobody speaks like that any more_ , thought Sally. “I have been waiting a long time for you.”

“We only just got here,” said Sally.

“Information is my business, Ms Sparrow. I knew you were coming.”

“Your voice sounds familiar,” said the Doctor. “You must be Barry.”

“He’s not Larry,” said Sally.

“I am very sorry to disappoint you, Doctor. I am Kerrick A. Blamley, founder and majority shareholder of Kerblam! Inc. I am probably the richest individual in human history. Surely you have heard me?”

“Kerblam!?” said Sally. She felt a little sick. Kerblam! was a website which cut out most of the overheads involved in retail. Their business model was what had put _Sparrow and Nightingale_ out of business. They were what Mr Thomas called “the competition”.

“I’ve heard of Kerblam!” said the Doctor. “Extremely successful and popular company. I assumed you were just a rebranding of Amazon after the word ‘Amazon’ became synonymous with ‘disaster’.”

Blamley laughed. “Amazon. That takes me back. No, Kerblam! is my venture and my venture alone.” There was a pregnant pause. “You know,” said Blamley, “When you mentioned Amazon, I thought you were going to ask me how I managed to displace an utterly dominant market leader.”

“No, I’m not interested.”

“It is really very impressive. But then, you already know how I did it, don’t you, Doctor?”

“Just take us to the prisoner.”

Sally caught her breath. Was Larry being held prisoner in the future? Blamley, for his part, did not seem at all surprised at the Doctor’s request. Sally would have thoughts he would at least feign shock or offer some denial, but he didn’t. “They’re just through here,” said Blamley. “Come on.”

Lisa was clearly alarmed. “Sir, these intruders haven’t been vetted, are you sure…”

“Yes, Lisa, I’m sure. The Doctor was the one who told me about the prisoners in the first place.”


	3. Chapter 3

Blamley placed his eye on the scanner and opened the door onto a dark basement. The room was lit by what seemed to be a giant rectangular light, itself larger than Sally’s bedroom. Grizzled old men and women stood around facing the light intently. Sally could even make out a few of them: a large black woman was showing the contents of her clipboard to a skinny Asian man with a grey goatee, their faces lit up by the large light. As Sally’s eyes adjusted, she realised that it wasn’t a light at all, but a glass box which just happened to be full of bright white light. And at either end of the box…

There was no mistaking them. Sally gut fell. They were Angels. Their arms were raised above their heads and their teeth were bared. The first unusual thing that struck Sally was their facial expressions. Both statues looked as if they were in agonising pain. Then she saw the giant nails holding them onto the wall. Then, last of all, she noticed the wires hooked up to those nails.

“You’re torturing them,” she said.

“They’re heartless unstoppable predators. They spend most of their time as stone. This isn’t torture, this is the minimum it takes to restrain those things,” Blamley said, emotionless.

Sally knew what the Angels could do. She noticed that her breath was racing, so she slowed down, counting to six on each inhalation and exhalation. Her heart was still thumping away. “Doctor, let’s leave.”

The Doctor pulled her close and whispered in her ear. “I’m sorry, this must be hard for you, but I will keep you safe and I will find Larry.”

“It’s L- thank you.”

The Doctor pivoted back around. “So, Blamley, I have three questions. Question one – why do you have two Weeping Angels under your Cardiff distribution hub? Question two – why are the leading researchers at a major tech company exclusively people who are well past pensionable age? And question three…”

“Doctor, you’re embarrassing yourself. I didn’t become a trillionaire by explaining the obvious to idiots. Surely you can work out the answers to those questions on your own?”

And then Sally remembered. She remembered Kerblam! investing huge amounts of money into Cardiff so they could build their European distribution centre in the city They had created thousands of jobs. Of course, they’d had to knock down a few dilapidated houses to build their distribution centre, but they’d paid so much in business rates that the council had been able to approve several high-density blocks of flats in the city centre and homelessness had plummeted. Sally and Larry had objected to the development, but their objections fell on deaf ears. In hindsight, Sally couldn’t blame the council for thinking they were just NIMBYs, afraid of having their business undercut by a superior competitor. But she realised that the staircase to the cellar didn’t just remind her of the one in Wester Drumlins. It was the same staircase.

“Doctor, these are the same Angels that came after me.”

“And that’s how you always beat the competition, isn’t it, Blamley? You use the Angels. Your researchers aren’t old because you only hire old researchers, they’re old because you’ve fed all the young ones to the Angels so they can help your past self.”

“Very good, Doctor, very good,” said Blamley, a thick smile upon his face.

“It’s monstrous. I can’t allow it.”

“Allow it? Doctor, you should _welcome_ it. Firstly, I pay my employees extremely handsomely for their services. It’s all fully consensual. They are aware of the risks and freely agree to be sent back. I’m not engaged in temporal kidnapping. I was the first one sent back – that’s how I was able to set up Kerblam! before Bezos could get in my way. I lived life a second time with the knowledge from the first, consistently beating the stock market, pre-empting every technological trend and innovation, and even betting on sports results that I already knew. Sending more people back allows me to iterate further. I send someone back to the 90s who has knowledge of 2040s technology and they introduce it early. I estimate that I have accelerated human progress by at least two centuries. I have prevented wars and pandemics and terrorist attacks. I have established permanent human colonies on the Moon and Mars and established liberal democracy in China. I have ended world hunger and eliminated five major infectious diseases. Homosexuality is legal in every country on Earth and I have abolished the gender binary. In the last iteration I made the UK carbon-negative by 2015, in this one I developed general AI by 2012, and in the next I imagine medical science will progress far enough to make humans biologically immortal by the 2030s. I am not only the _richest_ man in human history, I am the _greatest_ man in human history.”

The Doctor paced, fidgeting with his hands. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Doctor, I plainly know _exactly_ what-”

“No, you don’t. From where you’re standing, you can only see the good. You’ve done a lot of good for a lot of people, but when you messed around with Weeping Angels you altered the web of time. Humanity is not supposed to become an interplanetary power – a proper interplanetary power – for centuries, and you’re not supposed to become even a limited temporal power for at least three millennia. You’ve used the Angels to bootstrap an entire civilisation forwards by thousands of years. Humanity with general AI, biological immortality and Martian colonies in the mid-21st century is a terrifying prospect. A couple more goes around and you’ll be developing interstellar and intergalactic travel within the century.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“In a word, yes. You’d spread across the galaxy and engage in cosmic colonialism. All the evil you have prevented would go spilling out across the stars. The disasters, the genocides, the wars, they’ll all spring up in ways that you can’t foresee. You’re doing a tiny little bit of time travel in one tiny corner of one tiny planet, and you’re saving billions of lives. You can’t imagine how much good you’ve done, because human minds can’t think in billions. But if humanity spreads across the universe before the universe is ready, you’ll cause death and destruction on a scale that makes a billion Earthlings seem like a drop of water against the sun.”

“It’s not much of a desert any more. I’ve re-greened it.”

“Great! Well, mostly. But your philanthropy needs to stick to what is humanly possible. I can’t let you play around with time travel.”

“You also can’t stop me.”

The Doctor didn’t have an immediate response. Everyone had stopped working. They had turned to watch the argument. Sally realised she was the only one still looking at the Angels, and she wasn’t going to stop now.

“It’s OK,” said Lisa. “They look at each other except when we want to use them.”

“I’m more comfortable looking,” said Sally.

“You’re right, of course”, said the Doctor. “I can’t stop you. But now I have warned you about the dangers of time travel, hopefully you can guard against them.”

“I’ll do my best, Doctor.”

“That’s all I can ask for. Well, actually, I did have a third question before you interrupted.”

“And then you’ll leave here?”

“You have my word.”

“Then please, ask.”

“Where is Larry Nightingale?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to whoever gave me Kudos, it means a lot.  
> I'm always open to constructive criticism, so please feel free to lay it on me.
> 
> I've added a few tags, one of which is there out of a real abundance of caution.

Dompton took mugshots of the Doctor and Sally and escorted them from the premises apologetically. He was kind enough to point them towards the nearest Metro station. This was one of the many ways in which Cardiff had changed from Sally’s time. If you didn’t look up, it was just about recognisable. The shop facades were, if anything, less generic than in Sally’s time. But the city had gained immense verticality, leaving it feeling like central London or Manhattan. Every house now had three or four flats on top of it. There were no car parks, and in their place were towering blocks of flats with verdant balconies and rooftop gardens. The Bridge Street Exchange, Cardiff’s tallest building in Sally’s time, was now nothing special. The roofs without gardens had solar panels and small wind turbines, and there was a tidal lagoon in the Bay.

Sally and the Doctor got on a Metro. This was entirely new, and Sally studied the map with fascination. It was an above-ground light rail system with more than a dozen lines, one of which extended out to Newport.

“Did you mean what you said to Mr Blamley? About leaving him alone now?” asked Sally.

“No,” said the Doctor. “I can’t let him mess around with time, and I will not let him torture the Angels. But we need to find Harry, so let’s lull Blamley into a false sense of security.”

According to Mr Blamley, Larry had an active subscription to Kerblam! Premium registered at the flat he had shared with Sally. This seemed like a good thing to Sally, because she knew how to get there. The Doctor had more reservations, which he shared with Sally in a hushed tone lest anyone overhear them.

“We’re going to have to be very careful. There’s a serious risk of predestination traps.”

“What are those?” asked Sally.

“It’s a concept that time-travellers have to avoid,” said the Doctor. “Let’s say we knock on the door and the older version of you answers.”

“Won’t she be expecting us?”

“Well, that’s certainly possible, but there are bigger issues. Firstly, it would give you knowledge of your future, which might push you to try and change it. The older you might even deliberately give you advice to try and change your future – her past.”

“And no matter what I do, the future will turn out the same?”

“No, you can change your future. It just might cause a paradox, which may or may not be harmful to the Web of Time. Not a risk worth taking. The other thing to consider is Larry. If he’s with your future self, she might not be prepared to let him go with you. It might not even be possible, if it conflicts with her memories.”

“I’m not sure I understand. Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey?”

“If it helps.”

“So, OK, it would be bad for me to meet my future self. But what if I’m not there?”

“Well,” said the Doctor, “think about it.”

There was a pause. Sally scrunched up her face in concentration and glanced up at the ceiling. “If I’m not there, then I know that I won’t be there. And that’s also a predestination trap?”

“Yes,” said the Doctor. “In fact it’s probably worse. Larry has almost certainly tried to get in contact with you. If he has failed, what does that tell you?”

“Oh. Oh no.”

“I’m afraid so. Do you think you could bring Larry back to your present and expect him to live the rest of his life without spilling the beans?”

“Larry’s terrible at keeping secrets.”

“The best case scenario is that Larry _has_ tried to get in contact with you, and has spoken to your future self who has assured him that everything will turn out alright and told him to expect our arrival.”

Sally didn’t know what to say to that. She glanced out the window and watched the city pass her by, at once familiar and unfamiliar. Uncanny, that was the word. At first she thought that the roads were the same, if a little quiet, until it dawned upon her that the city had been turned into a huge one-way system, with the exception of busy bicycle lanes that ran along either side of the roads. Sally had always preferred cycling to driving. She’d never actually owned a car of her own, although she’d got her license at 17 as a rite of passage. If she’d known that Cardiff would become the British Amsterdam then she wouldn’t have bothered.

They reached their stop and disembarked. It took Sally a second to orient herself. She couldn’t immediately align her mental image of her neighbourhood with the future version before her eyes. But then the two images clicked together and she felt a rush of recognition. Yes, this was her home. Some of the details were different, but this was recognisably the same Cardiff neighbourhood she called home.

“That way,” said Sally. They crossed the road – the cycle paths were the hardest part – and headed up Sally’s road. The buildings had all changed, but Sally had no problem finding the place that had been _Sparrow and Nightingale,_ 36 St Mary’s Street _._ It was now either a bookshop with a large café or a coffee shop with a reading corner. Like the rest of Cardiff, it had grown upwards. It looked to have gained four storeys. There was a discreet residential entrance by the front door, with doorbells listed for 36A, B, C, and D and a small LCD screen next to a tiny camera.

“He’s at 36A,” said Sally, standing well back. The Doctor pressed the relevant doorbell. There was a delay of several seconds before the LCD screen flickered on, showing only pink flesh and a tiny sliver of light. The occupant had covered their camera with their hand.

“Hello?” The hairs on Sally’s neck stood on end. _Larry!_

“Larry Nightingale?” said the Doctor.

“Just leave it in the hallway, I’ll pick it up later,” said Larry.

“Larry, I need to talk to you about Sally Sparrow.”

There was another pause. “Come on up. Second floor.”

He buzzed the door open and the Doctor beckoned Sally into the flat. They had to head up two narrow flights of stairs. As her heart thumped in her chest, Sally realised that her old flat, the old 36A, was now part of the shop – a staff room and some storage areas, probably. Larry’s flat had the same address, but it was a new build. A place of his own.

The door to 36A was on the second landing. The Doctor knocked. There was a muffled shout – _Larry_ – from inside the flat. Sally worried about whether she was having a heart attack. Then the door opened.

There was part of Sally that wanted to scream. There was part of her that wanted to run away. There was part of her that wanted to pull Larry into a vice-like hug and never let go, and another part that wanted to beat her fists against his chest. Fortunately, none of these warring factions was able to gain dominance, so she just stood, frozen still and struck mute. Larry’s jaw hung loose as he stared back at her gormlessly.

“Hello, I’m looking for my friend’s boyfriend, Larry,” said the Doctor. “Does he live with you?”

Larry looked at the Doctor, still silent. His lips moved a little like a goldfish, or a salivating dog.

“Hi Larry,” someone said, and it took Sally a moment to realise that it was her. Had her voice always been that uncool?

“Sally,” said Larry. “Is that really you?”

“This is Larry?” said the Doctor. “This is the boyfriend I risked the web of time for? Has he never heard of trousers?” 

“Yes, it’s me,” said Sally. She reached out her arm. Larry stepped out onto the landing and grabbed her hand, gentling running his thumb over the backs of her fingers. He let out a single sob.

“Sorry, sorry, I am so glad to see you…”

“And I’m so glad to see you.”

And then they were hugging. Larry’s arms draped down Sally’s back and pulled her into him, and she clung to him a treehugger.

“Who’s this?” Larry asked.

“ _Sally Sparrow, beware the Weeping Angels!”_ said the Doctor.

Larry’s eyes widened. “You’re… you’re one of the lads from the message boards? Umbrella-Man was Scottish… oh. You’re not Marvellous_Apparating_Lady are you?”

“Sorry to disappoint. I’m the Doctor, but you also know me as BasilDisco12. And if it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be hugging your girlfriend unusually tightly right now, so show so respect.”

“Erm, right,” said Larry. He pulled away from Sally. “Would you like to come in? I’ve got something good on the TV.”


	5. Chapter 5

Larry’s flat should have been very nice. A short hallway opened up onto a large all-purpose living room. The breakfast bar was covered with takeaway boxes. The floor-to-ceiling windows were covered by a black-out blind. The open-plan layout gave more floor space for Larry’s clothes and belongings and rubbish. The mess reminded Sally of Larry’s bedroom in the flat he had shared with his sister. The big difference was that instead of a tiny cathode-ray screen, Larry had an obscenely large TV on a far wall that also served as his main light source. Sally had never paid much attention to the technical specifications of TV screens, but this one was far larger than anything she could remember seeing outside of a cinema, and had a strikingly high resolution.

“Just starting a new box set,” said Larry. “TV adaptation of the _Broken Earth_. Kerblam! Premier Original.”

“Larry, what happened to you?” asked Sally.

“Judging by the mess and the smell,” the Doctor began, “I would say…”

“Doctor, please, be quiet,” said Sally.

“Doctor?” said Larry. “What, the Doctor? The bloke from the Easter Eggs? Sally, this isn’t the Doctor. I spent years thinking about him, and that is not the Doctor.”

“New face,” said the Doctor, flashing a grin. “Same person. I’m an alien. I can show you my ship if you need proof.”

Larry shrugged. “I’m sorry, if I knew you were coming I would have tidied the place up a bit.” He grabbed a few chocolate wrappers from the floor and shoved them in the bin.

“How did you end up here?” Sally asked again.

“Got to admit,” said Larry as he dumped a couple of plates in the sink, “I’m not entirely sure. I was just strolling home through the park one evening when it was suddenly the middle of the day and everything shifted around a bit. At first I thought an Angel must have got me, but then I realised it was the future, and that’s not how the Angels work. Then I thought I must have quantum shifted into a parallel world or something. My bank card still worked though, and it turned out I was quite rich. Found the old flat had been repossessed, so I went to see the bank and, well, found out we’d been given this place as compensation for our old place being redeveloped. So I’ve been holed up here catching up on everything I’ve missed.”

“What about me?” asked Sally.

“ _Sally_ ,” said the Doctor sternly.

“No sign of you,” said Larry. “I called your old phone number, but nothing. No response to my emails. No trace of you online. Letters for you are still being delivered here. I thought… I thought you were gone.”

“I thought _you_ were gone.”

“Yes, this is all well and good,” said the Doctor. “But the longer we stay here, the more damage we risk doing to time. Let’s get you both back home.”

Larry stepped backwards. “Back? Oh no. No way. I’m not going back. Things are much better here. I’ve run up huge savings, and there’s loads of TV to catch up on.”

“Larry, we have a life back in 2021. We have friends, and my parents, and things we need to do,” said Sally, pleading.

“If we live here, we don’t need any of those things,” said Larry. “We have plenty of money and plenty of things to spend it on. No more worrying about the bills or how we’re going to shift the excess stock.”

“You can stay here if you want,” said the Doctor. Sally shot him an angry stare. “Just a quick question from me. What makes you so sure you weren’t taken by an Angel?”

“Well, they send you back in time, right? Feed off the future you never had?” said Larry. “I am in the future.”

“Yes,” said the Doctor. “And they have destroyed your future just as surely as if they had sent you back in time.”

There was a cold pit in Sally’s stomach. “Doctor,” she said. “The Kerblam! distribution centre is on the site of Wester Drumlins, right?”

“That’s what you said, yes. Blamley must have read the graffiti I wrote to warn you about them. Tipped him off to be wary around the statues. I studied graffiti under Lee Qui _ñ_ ones, can’t say I ever mastered the art though…”

“There were four Angels in Wester Drumlins.”

“I’m still following you.”

“So why did Mr Blamley only have two?”

“Oh, very good, Sally Sparrow. Two Weeping Angels unaccounted for. One time-displaced boyfriend. Conclusion: boyfriend was grabbed by the Angels.”

Sally paced over to the window and pulled back the blinds, peering out through the crack into the midday sun.

“From a human perspective, I think being displaced into the future is probably better than being displaced to the past,” the Doctor rambled. “At least you could pick up your life from where you left off. But from my perspective, being displaced into the past is a small inconvenience. Being displaced into the future could be fatal. If I’m sent back in time then I just have to wait until I’ve caught up with myself, but I can’t get back to the past from the future without my TARDIS.”

“Couldn’t you just find your TARDIS in the future?” asked Larry. Sally wasn’t really paying attention. She studied the street outside, watching passers-by walk past and customers come and go from the café downstairs. Then she spotted it, across the road, in a passageway between two buildings.

“No, no, no… Angel!”

“What?” said Larry, alarmed. He nearly tripped over as he tried to get to the window, but once there, he too stared at the Angel, transfixed

“Oh no. They must have been waiting for us to show up,” said the Doctor. “My TARDIS is an incredible meal for them. They knew that you knew me. They must have thought that if they could displace you then they would draw me into this trap.”

“I thought they were back in 2021. How could they send me here if they were here all along?” asked Larry.

“It’s like you said about my TARDIS. Angels are exceptionally patient, durable creatures. They weren’t here all along. They have been waiting twenty-two years.”

“Right, right,” said Sally, still staring unblinking at the Angel. “Here’s how we get out of here. Two of us keep our eyes on her at all times. Unless we both blink at the exact same time, she can’t move. One of us goes down stairs while the other two stay here. Then once they’re outside and can see the Angel, the next one goes down. Repeat until we’re all out. Thoughts?”

“Three,” said the Doctor. “First, that gets us free, but it still leaves two angry Angels stalking around Cardiff. Without Larry to act as bait, who knows what they’ll do to get my attention?”

“Right, so we need to stop them.”

“Perhaps. That brings me on to my second thought. Blamley has two Angels. The other half of the pack. He’s torturing them for his own ends. I am not going to walk away from Omelas.”

“Right, trap two Angels, rescue another two, fine. What’s your third thought?”

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Something was trying to break down the door.

“There is one Angel still unaccounted for. And I think it’s about to get in.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Larry, keep your eyes on that one!” said Sally.

She and the Doctor turned to look at the front door. It was straining against the frame. There was no window or peephole, no way to stop the Angel from breaking in. Then, with an almighty crash, the door swung suddenly and violently open on its hinges, the latch torn away from the frame.

The Angel maximised the time the Doctor and Sally’s gazes were blocked by the door. She had slipped into the hallway in the wake of the door. She was crouched down on all fours, stalking forward like a leopard, her shoulders level with the end of the door while her right arm stretched out ahead of her. She appeared positively feral.

“Is there another way out?” asked the Doctor.

“No,” said Larry, still staring out the window.

“We can go around it,” said Sally.

“We’d have to stop looking at the outside Angel,” said the Doctor. “We’d end up trapped between them.”

“It’s doable. We could walk back-to-back.”

“Very risky.”

“It’s our only option!”

The Doctor put his hand to his mouth and ran it down his neck. “I might have another idea. Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Me neither. But I’m the best we have.”

The Doctor dropped to his haunches. “Hello. You’re stone right now. But I know from experience that you still have some sensory abilities. Can you hear me?” A beat. “Of course, there’s no way for you to communicate. I don’t have the technology that might help. Perhaps if we stick to yes or no questions… No! Stupid Doctor! I _do_ have the technology.” The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out the wallet of blank paper. “Psychic paper. Angels have low-level psychic abilities, just like Time Lords. Allows you to take control of the consciousness of dying people. Can you link with the psychic paper?”

_Yes._

“Brilliant. OK. Last time I met you there were four of you. I know where the other two are.”

_So do we._

“I just blinked,” Larry. “The other one is inside now. Sorry.”

“Why haven’t you rescued the others?”

_There are too many eyes._

“Too many people at the Kerblam! HQ. Makes sense. How did you two escape?”

Sally was really struggling to keep her eyes open now.

_When the humans came to tear down our home, they disturbed us. They broke our line of sight. Our friends displaced us back in time before they were imprisoned._

“OK, I will make you a deal. I will help you rescue your friends, and in exchange, you’ll leave me and my friends alone. Then I’ll find you a planet without sapient life forms. I can teleport you there and you can gouge yourselves without disrupting anyone’s lives.”

_This is_

_acceptable._

Sally blinked. The Angel stood up straight without moving towards them. Her friend appeared behind her. They were both grinning. 

The Doctor had made a deal with the Angels.


	7. Chapter 7

“So,” asked Sally. They were back in the TARDIS, and the Doctor was rooting around in his book case. “How are you going to infiltrate the Kerblam! depot? We can’t exactly use the psychic paper again. They’ll recognise us.”

“I have something I’ve been saving,” said the Doctor. “Extremely dangerous stuff. Bit of a nuclear option. Ah! Here we go.” He pulled a dusty glass vial sealed with a rubber stopper out of the gap between book and shelf.

“There’s nothing in there,” said Sally. Then the Doctor moved slightly and the vial caught the light. “Wait… no, it’s just dust.”

“That’s not dust, Sally Sparrow,” said the Doctor. “Those are suggestibility mites. Horrible creatures. Cousins of the Vashta Nerada, actually. Or I might have made that up. Maybe they are from the same planet as Memory Worms. It doesn’t matter. Point is, in their natural form, they release a signalling chemical that, by sheer coincidence, makes human beings less aggressive when you breathe it in.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“No, you’re right. And the human scientists who discovered them didn’t think they were bad either. But these aren’t the natural form. These have been bioengineered to release extremely high concentrations of the signalling chemicals. They don’t just calm you down, they make you extremely suggestible. You do whatever you’re told. You _believe_ whatever you’re told. You might even start to hallucinate. They shape your very perception of reality. They’re classed as a Category 5 Biological Agent by the Shadow Proclamation – illegal to manufacture.”

“Why would anyone manufacture them in the first place?”

“Well, at first politicians thought that making people a little more docile and suggestible would help their election chances, but of course the politicians themselves ended up being the ones who got the highest doses – nearly collapsed multiple governments. Then… well, you might find this hard to believe, but there are some people who are even worse than politicians. People would use them… well…” the Doctor looked away from Sally, “…late at night.”

“Oh god,” Sally’s stomach churned.

“I’m afraid so. That was when I got involved. Put a stop to the whole affair, made sure those responsible were punished. So, like I said, I kept these for dire emergencies. These days I think people mostly use them on themselves. Recreational hallucinogens. I don’t support drug control usually, but, well, this was a necessary exception.”

“Right,” said Sally. “So you’ll use this to clear out the Kerblam! security?”

“Well, not just the security, everyone on site,” said the Doctor.

“You’re going to roofie a bunch of low-paid workers and leave them to their fates?”

“OK, I see the flaw now. Fine, we will need to take care of them. That will use up a lot of time. But the effects don’t last long. We should be able to stop anyone coming to harm.”

“Assuming the Angels don’t double cross us.”

“Don’t worry, I am prepared for that eventuality. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.”

***

They waited until night time and crept up to the staff entrance of the perimeter fence at the Kerblam! Depot. The two Angels waited just out of eyeshot.

“Passes, please,” said the security guard by the entrance. He was a middle-aged Asian man, with a narrow face, fine cheekbones, and a black goatee. “Hang on a second, aren’t you…”

“Think fast!” said the Doctor, unstoppering the Suggestibility Mites and throwing them over the guard. A contented smile spread across the guard’s face.

“What’s your name?” asked the Doctor.

“Virat Patel,” he said.

“Well, Virat,” said the Doctor. “Won’t you help us get inside?”

“Hmm… yeah, sure, I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“Doctor,” hissed Sally, “did you waste our whole supply on this guy?”

“He’s the one we need to keep under the longest,” said the Doctor. “And he can approach the others without them getting suspicious. Spread the mites onto them.” There was a draught of wind and the Angels appeared just behind them. “You two keep to the shadows until we give you the all clear. We don’t want to cause a panic.”

They approached the warehouse itself over the parking lot, using the cover of darkness. A couple of security guards stood by the entrance. Kerblam! was a 24/7 company, and the night shift was busily fulfilling orders so they could be shipped first thing in the morning.

“You know those security guards, Virat?” asked the Doctor.

“Emma and Janava.”

“Great. You go and tell Emma and Janava that, for security reasons, they need to tell everyone to stop what they’re doing and immediately stand facing the nearest wall.” He glanced at Sally. “Unless they need to go to the toilet, or get something to eat or drink, or experience a medical emergency. Then they should do that as quickly as possible, without paying attention to anything unusual, like aliens or unauthorised intruders. Can you remember all of that?”

“I can. Not sure everyone else will, but let’s give it a try.”

Sally stuck her head into the warehouse a few minutes later. Everyone was stood happily facing a wall, chatting to the people next to them or looking at their phones. “All clear,” she said.

“Great. Where’s Virat? VIRAT?”

“Yes?” came a voice from the far wall. The Doctor and Sally ran over. “Virat, we would greatly appreciate it if you could let us downstairs to the prisoners.”

“I’d love to,” said Virat, not turning around to look at them, “but for security reasons I have to stand still facing this wall.”

“Er…” said Sally. “Virat, right now, you really need to go to the toilet.”

A panicked look came across Virat’s face. “You’re right, I do. That means…”

“That means you don’t have to keep facing the wall. It makes sense to let us downstairs and then go to the toilet.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Virat. “Let’s go.”

Virat power-walked over to the door to the staircase. “I’m beginning to understand how the Master feels,” muttered the Doctor. The Angels trailed them. Sally didn’t feel entirely comfortable with their alliance, but the Doctor had proven that he could outthink them. She had to put her faith in him.

Virat unlocked the door and made to dash off to the toilet. “Come on, Virat, we need you down here,” said the Doctor. Virat spun around on the spot and followed them down. He didn’t pay any attention to the Angels as he passed them.

“Right, Virat, when I open this door, you go in there and tell all the scientists to face the wall as a security measure.”

“And then I can go to the toilet?”

“Yes, then you can go to the toilet.”

Virat scanned his retina on the door, and it clicked unlocked.

 _That’s weird,_ Sally thought, but she couldn’t pin down why. Virat pushed the door open.

“Hello, Virat,” said Mr Blamley. “We’ve been expecting you. Would you go and introduce yourself to our prisoners, please?”


	8. Chapter 8

“Much obliged, sir,” said Virat. The crowd of Blamley’s scientists on the other side of the door parted for him and he strolled forwards.

“Virat, remember what I told you!” said the Doctor.

Blamley laughed. “Far too general, Doctor. Brainwashing requires _specifics_.”

Virat reached the bright glass box in the centre of the room which housed the Angels. Except, Sally realised, it wasn’t a glass box any more. The walls had been removed, and Virat stepped into the light between the Angels. He stroked the face of one of them.

“Virat! Virat, come back!” the Doctor shouted.

“It’s too late for that, Doctor,” said Blamley. “Isn’t that right, _Virat?_ ”

The Doctor’s eyes were drawn to the scientist at Blamley’s side. He was an Asian man with fine cheekbones and a goatee.

“It is, sir. This is how it goes,” said the older Virat.

“Excellent. Kill the lights.”

“No!”

The lights cut off for a split second, and the young Virat disappeared. This was not the plan.

“Blamley, you’re making a terrible mistake,” said the Doctor.

“No, Doctor, I don’t think I am. It’s not “Blamley” any more, by the way. This time around, Virat has convinced me to go as Augustus Kerblam. Better brand synergy.”

“Augustus,” said the Doctor. “I’m giving you one last chance as thanks for all the good you have done. Release the Angels and I will show mercy.”

“Doctor, you are in no position to make idle threats,” said Augustus.

“Fine, fine. In that case, Augustus, why don’t you go and see the Angels?”

“Ha! No, Doctor, I won’t be doing that. Virat’s warned us all about your plan. You’re drugging us, somehow, yes? Won’t work, I’m afraid. We found the chemical in Virat’s bloodstream and synthesised a preventative, which I have been taking ever since. We’re in trials to have trace amounts added to the water supply to protect the population against brainwashing. No, I think it is time for you to learn how nasty your little drug can be. Doctor, be quiet. Ms Sparrow, would you be so kind as to step into the light?”

And Sally realised she was turning towards the Angels, and stepping forward. She struggled desperately, but her feet were moving without her. With sheer force of will, she could resist a little, slow her progress, but the mite forced her to creep onwards, take one inevitable step after another.

“Doctor,” Sally said. “Doctor, do something.”

But the Doctor was almost struck mute. Augustus had given him a little wiggle room. He whispered as loudly as the mites would allow him. “Turn around, Sally, turn around, please turn around.” But it was no use. Sally was dangerously close to being within arm’s reach of the Angel now. She strained with every fibre, but she was compelled to creep onwards. Images of the Angels flashed before her eyes. Being surrounded in Wester Drumlins. The angels appearing around her as the TARDIS dematerialised. And imagined scenes of Kathy disappearing into history at their touch. Larry disappearing. Her friends, her favourite customers, Mr Thomas. The Doctor. No, no. There was nothing she could do. Her body was betraying her.

 _Okay._ The Doctor thought. _Sally can’t hear me, so it’s all up to you now. They’re all looking at her. You can strike._

It was silent at first. Sally couldn’t hear it. Nobody could see it. The Doctor could just about make it out, because Time Lords have better hearing than humans, and because he knew what to listen for. He could hear every heartbeat in the room. One by one, they stopped, and not with the pained gasps of a human in cardiac arrest.

“Alright,” said Augustus. “Virat, cut the power… now.”

The power remained on. Augustus turned around… and saw the other two Angels stood behind him.

“What? No, this can’t… nobody warned me about this!” protested Augustus, raging at the reality that had manifested in front of him.

“How could they?” said the Doctor. He felt his control over his vocal cords coming back. “You have built your empire on sending people back in time using the Angels. You’ve become complacent. Reliant. Dependent, even. But these two don’t work like other Angels, not any more. They send people forward in time. And you know nothing, nothing at all, about the future.”

“No… please…”

“I gave you every chance, Gus. It’s time for you to learn how everyone else lives.”

Two of the Angels were pointing at the light now. It flickered slightly without ever quite cutting out.

“I… I forbid it! I’ll pay you! Please, just…”

“Cut the power,” said the Doctor. And it was then that Sally realised he had forgotten about her. She was stood right in front of one of the Angels when the light cut out.

And she still was when it flickered on again. Kerrick Augustus Blamley, or Augustus Kerblam, was not. The Angel nearest to him had touched him, sending him hurtling forwards in time to a future he couldn’t predict or control.

“Sally, you’re free now,” said the Doctor. And as he said it, he made it so. Sally ran. She ran out of the basement and turned up the stairs.

“Right,” said the Doctor. “I got you in here. Now let’s get you all out. I don’t think those nails are going to come out easily, but they won’t travel with you if you touch each other. Pair up and close your eyes. One of you goes back in time, one of you goes forward. I’d appreciate it if you could send people you meet back to their original times, except for Augustus of course – best he stays in the future. Then once you’re out…” The Doctor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out four wrist straps. He put one on the left wrist of each Angel. “Single-use spatial-temporal teleport. One step down from a vortex manipulator. These will take the four of you to a planet about this size, full of life, but no sapient beings. You can zap your prey back and forth through time without ruining anyone’s life or worrying that someone is going to lock you up and torture you. Sound good?”

The fact that none of the Angels had attacked him despite ample opportunity was proof enough. The Doctor checked his psychic paper.

_Thank you._

“I hope I never see you again,” he said. He walked out of the room, and as he left, he flicked off the light switch. He flicked it back on, and the Angels were gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Sally was waiting back in the TARDIS. She had sat down in the Doctor’s favourite armchair to read a book, one of Thomas Hardy’s. A signed copy, as it happened.

“Are you OK?” the Doctor asked her.

Sally looked up from her book and smiled weakly. “No,” she said. “No, I’m not OK. I’ve had a really horrid day. I’ve been attacked by creatures from my nightmares, I was mind controlled by a trillionaire who wanted me dead, and my boyfriend dumped me to spend more time with his TV. And it turns out I’ll be dead by 2043.”

The Doctor crouched down to put himself on eye level with Sally. “I’m sorry. I really am. I tried to help you, but I put you in more danger than you bargained for. It is my responsibility. I’m the experienced time traveller and I had a duty to keep you safe.” He looked up, and glanced around. “I lost myself for a second there. I was so focused on stopping Gus that I forgot to think of you. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” said Sally.

“As for your boyfriend…” said the Doctor, “look, you like him, I get that. But Sally, there are a lot of single people your age who you’d like even more than Barry. People who get dressed every day, or who are considerate of the people they live with, or who make you smile with everything they say. You’re not going to have any trouble finding somebody new. And equally, you may decide that you don’t need a partner, or you want multiple partners – all equally valid ways of living that can lead to a lifetime of happiness.”

Sally laughed. “Doctor, it’s very nice of you to say so, and you’re right, but it doesn’t need saying. I’m… a little bit upset about Larry, but I’ll get over it. Mostly I’m just mad that I wasted so much time with him. I went through a traumatic experience with him and then I clung to him because he was _there_ , not because we were a good match.”

“I’m glad you’ve got such a healthy perspective. “It’s not me, it’s Gary”. Remember that.” The Doctor waited a second. “Do you want me to take you home now?”

“I suppose,” said Sally. “I really _should_ go home. But…”

“But?”

“But… Doctor, I’m going to die before I’m 60. I’m unemployed, I’m about to default on my mortgage, I’m… I’m not OK, Doctor.”

“Hey,” the Doctor held out his hand to Sally, and she took it. “You’re right, it’s tough. But for what it’s worth… I don’t think you’re going to die before you’re sixty. And if you do, it isn’t because Harry couldn’t find your Facebook profile.”

“I don’t even have a Facebook profile.”

“Exactly, Sally, so it’s not surprising, is it?” The Doctor stood up. “There is an alternative to unemployment and repossession and early death. You’ve seen a little bit of the future. You’ve seen how wonderful it can be. There’s a whole universe full of wonders and delights, and I walk across it. If you’d like, you can travel with me, for as long as you want, and then stop, wherever and whenever you want.”

Sally closed her book and lent forward in her seat. “And there are places with no Weeping Angels? Places where it’s all safe and quiet and you can sit down in front of the fire with a cream tea and a good book?”

The Doctor smiled. “You know, I’ve been meaning to spend more time in that sort of place.”

“Then it’s a deal. Safety and warmth and a good book. History and culture and art. Show me things that I will love.”

The Doctor strode over to the central console. His smile was now a huge toothy grin. He was marvellous. “A universe of peace and quiet awaits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE DOCTOR AND SALLY SPARROW WILL RETURN IN "SILENTS IN THE LIBRARY"
> 
> I am planning this as a four-part series, three-parts plot, one part fluff. I'm open to a second series if I have enough ideas and this does well, so, if you'll forgive the brief lapse into YouTubeism, if you liked this story then please leave a comment and smash that Kudos button and recommend this work to your Whovian friends. Particularly comment if there are particular places you'd like the story to go or existing monsters you'd like to see appear.


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